


Butterfly

by snapbackbuddies



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (kind of. Presumed death), Angst, Getting Together, Gore, Hospitals, M/M, Temporary Character Death, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Whump, Whump, android body horror, androids can feel pain, archive warning just in case, just a liddol comfort so i'm not sure i can tag hurt/comfort but things end happy!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23617204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapbackbuddies/pseuds/snapbackbuddies
Summary: Nines is tired, and he is weak. Despite the pain of it, his remaining leg is starting to give out, and he's left relying on the rod to hold himself up. It's sharply painful, at first, but it rounds off to something dull after a few minutes.Gavin finds him like that. Limp and half-gone already.He stops dead when he sees him. Stutters in his frantic steps, stops breathing for a moment until he breathes, "Holy shit."
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 27
Kudos: 318





	Butterfly

**Author's Note:**

> hi folks i'm back at it again. no idea if this is good tbh but i've been quite fond of this concept that i've had for literal Months. all of it has been written for the last several months except for the last 100 words which i finished up yesterday! detroit: evolution Rekindled some reed900 inspiration in me!!! if you haven't watched it, i HIGhly recommend.
> 
> the archive warning is because there's semi-graphic descriptions of damage done to nines. if punctured lungs/blood in lungs/difficulty breathing squicks you, that's described in this fic, so be careful. if you want to know exactly what happens, i'll say it in the end notes. there should be a link to that below. be safe!!

There is a metal rod shoved through Nines' shoulder.

He is alone in a scrapyard, pinned like a collector's butterfly to an old pickup truck. The rod had pierced through his shoulder and created a clean hole through the driver side of the door, shoving through him until it hit the center console. Nines has to imagine the length of the bar inside the car is coated with his blood.

Nines blinks blearily. Breathes shallowly. Holding himself up is the only way to reduce pressure on his shoulder, especially his chassis, already shattered from the initial blow. It's difficult, though. One of his legs was taken out in the fight before this, his right thigh slashed savagely, and he can no longer support weight with that leg. So he's balancing his weight on his left leg, and it's hard––he shifts gingerly to try and alleviate some of the discomfort. Instead he sends an agonizing sensation darting through his sensors, and he gasps wetly, sagging and causing more pain as he does, fumbling to readjust.

His left lung has been filling with blood. The rod had punctured it, as well as an artery. Breathing is difficult, and now it's coming up into his mouth, dripping out of his nose as he starts to breathe heavier.

It's… good, he supposes. The rod had barely missed his heart. Another two and a half inches to the right, and he…

Nines feels blood drip down his lip and deactivates his breathing program. Nines is tired, and he is weak. Despite the pain of it, his remaining leg is starting to give out, and he's left relying on the rod to hold himself up. It's sharply painful, at first, but it rounds off to something dull after a few minutes.

Gavin finds him like that. Limp and half-gone already.

He stops dead when he sees him. Stutters in his frantic steps, stops breathing for a moment until he breathes, "Holy shit." Nines looks nearly unconscious; his chest is unmoving, and his eyes are shut until Gavin speaks and they flutter, eyes rolling for a moment. He's absolutely drenched in blood, a bright blue streak down from the metal sticking out of him, his white shirt completely ruined. One of his legs is coated, too. The black fabric of his slacks shines with it.

Even as his eyes flutter he doesn't lift his head from where it's lolled against his good shoulder. Patches of his face and other bits of skin exposed where his clothes are torn are snowy white, decorated with sapphire blood.

Gavin can't come a step closer. The whole scene looks like a nightmare.

Nines' bloody lips curve upwards just slightly. He's watching Gavin with as much attention as he can give, his eyes tired and half-lidded, head still not rising to look at him head-on. "'Bout time you showed up," he slurs, barely audible to Gavin. He stutters an inch closer. Nines heaves a painful breath. "If I didn't know any b-better– I'd– think you trusted a p-plastic cop to do the– job––"

Blood starts to pour over his bottom lip and out of his nose while he speaks, enough that it starts to drip down his chin too. He splutters around it, breath wheezing, chest jumping erratically. In the end he's coughing raggedly, trembling hard and tilting forwards in a way that makes Gavin's heart jump with fear. He unfreezes and lurches forward, tripping over scrap metal to press himself to Nines. Nines' blood seeps onto his clothing.

He clamps his hand to the side of Nines' neck, gently lifts his head. Nines is staring at him, eyes still half-closed. Gavin is praying his body pressed up to Nines is helping to keep him upright and not just hurting him more. It's hard to tell when Nines is so listless, so limp.

Gavin's eyes sink to the bar sticking out of Nines' chest. The android they've been chasing, the one Nines raced off to pursue alone, is fucking strong. A prototype, like Nines. It's ruthlessly powerful, stronger than Nines, even. It was fucking suicide for Nines to even try to fight it on his own, without backup, and look where it fucking landed him.

His eyes are stuck to the puncture.

He has to imagine the metal went through Nines and the truck behind him like a hot knife through butter.

Gavin's shaking hand comes to rest on the metal, less than a foot out from where it disappears into Nines. He feels like he's standing on unsteady ground– like every time he thinks he's found his footing, he sees a new way Nines is damaged and loses the foothold holding him up. His fingers curl around the bar, encompassing it in his grip. It's– it's warm. That detail alone makes Gavin's stomach curl sickly. "I–" He swallows down against something in his throat, some blockage he's not sure he imagines or not. "Does it– are you– d-damage report, Nines."

The weight of Nines' head is resting entirely in his hand now. He's breathing again, struggling through breaths as slow and even as he can manage, fighting to calm down from his coughing fit. "Punctured left lung," he mumbles, breath catching in his throat every few syllables. "Perforated s-subclavian artery." He blinks, prolonged, slow. "Losing blood fast," he slurs, softer. "Most of it is f… filling my left lung." More blood drips from his mouth and nose while he speaks, and Gavin's eyebrows pinch while he watches, reaching his thumb out to swipe at his dip of his chin. He only smears it over his paling skin. "I also have…" his head dips. Gavin guides it back up. "H've a serious wound in my thigh. My right leg is inc-capable of supporting–– and I– I'm losing blood th-there. As well." Gavin runs his shivering thumb up Nines' jaw. "No shutdown timer but pr– probably soon."

Gavin exhales unsteadily. "Probably soon," he repeats. Nines watches him, doesn't outwardly show that he heard him at all. Gavin takes a deep breath and readjusts his grip on Nines' neck. His fingers tighten around the bar so hard his knuckles whiten. "Okay," he breathes, readying himself, steeling his nerves. "Okay." His eyes have drifted down to the rod again, to the mess where it plunges into Nines, but he raises his gaze to meet Nines'. "Does… does it hurt much?"

Nines folds his lips and works his jaw but doesn't swallow. "N…" A staggering breath. "Not so much anym-more."

Gavin stares at him. He doesn't like the way that sounds very much, but he just slides his hand up to cup Nines' cheek. Squeezes it gently, then releases him. "Okay. G-good. I'm gonna try to get it out of you, alright? Then we can… I can get you to the hospital."

Nines stares at him, heedless, for a long moment.

Nines is afraid. But he's not sure what his other options are. He knows he doesn't have much time, and Gavin knows it, too, and he's… he's exhausted. Speaking has drained him of the last of what little energy he had, and even listening to Gavin is becoming too much.

He's limper without Gavin's support, chin nearly pressed to his chest.

He nods weakly and doesn't speak.

Gavin exhales a stream of air, zeroing in on the bar, and curls his other hand around it as well, bracing himself. He tries to focus as best he can. He doesn't want to hurt Nines more than necessary. He takes another deep breath, steadies his feet, then pulls.

The metal on metal makes a horrible screeching noise as it scrapes against itself, and it is nothing compared to the way Nines screams.

Nines’ hands, limp at his sides a second ago, smack out to brace against Gavin's chest and shoulders, pushing, trying to shove him away on gut instinct. His scream melts into sobs, trembling violently, fingers locking in the fabric of Gavin's sweater. Gavin had stopped pulling the instant Nines screamed, but Nines still holds on, half pushing, half clinging. He's sobbing hysterically now, sagging forward, chest heaving on the pole with his wet, gasping breaths.

The sobs are fucking agonizing. Nines jerks and heaves, blue blood cascading down the front of his shirt as he expels all the blood in his lung on an excruciating sob. His entire body judders against Gavin's. There's tears on his cheeks.

Gavin has come closer, helpless, his lips parted in horror as he watches Nines. Nines' hands are scrabbling for any part of Gavin he can reach, clutching Gavin's arms, his shoulders, his sweater, his jacket, anything he can reach. He's crying out, scattered pleas muttered between heaves and sobs. "Oh, God," he chokes, arms spasming. "Oh– rA9, stop, please," he wheezes, and pauses a moment. The only sounds are his awful, jagged gasps. "P-please, rA9."

Gavin has never heard Nines say that. He's– he's never, he– 

Gavin rushes to cradle Nines' head in his hands, palms pressed flat to his cheeks, thumbs resting at the corners of his eyes. He presses his chest against Nines' again, mindless of the blood sticking to both their chests. "Fuck, Nines, I'm so– you're okay, it's okay, we're not gonna do that again. I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm– I'm just gonna call an ambulance, alright? We'll wait for an ambulance. It's going to be okay."

Nines sobs. He's still shaking, hard. His eyes are closed, the weight of his head Gavin's burden to bear once more.

Gavin is terrified. Usually, when he's scared, anger jumps up to hide it.

That doesn't happen this time. He's shaking, too.

Nines is numb. He feels frail, weaker than before. The fight has left him.

"Okay," Nines mutters, belatedly, and speaking is even harder than it was before. There's a static buzz to his voice.

Gavin keeps his face cradled for a few more moments, staring, eyes wide and fucking scared, before he releases Nines. He stays close, though, can't tear himself away. He's afraid of what will happen if he does. He fumbles for his phone, scrambling to get it out of his jacket pocket. He doesn't understand why it's so fucking hard to grab, Nines can't have much time left, he needs to fucking hurry.

When he finally manages to snatch it out of his pocket, he glares down at the screen and finds it smeared with blue blood. His fingers are wet with it. He swallows and almost chokes on it, then dials 911 and struggles to keep the damn thing in his grasp.

Gavin realizes he might be having a panic attack while he tries to speak with the operator. He can't get a sentence out without stuttering, gasping desperately to draw air into his tight chest. She tells him to calm down. Gavin snarls that he doesn't have time to calm down.

The woman asks a lot of questions about Nines, questions that Gavin doesn't always know the answer to, and Nines doesn't have the energy to relay the information. All Gavin can do is brush his hair back from his face and try to keep the two of them breathing. Nines is losing his tension, and Gavin can't tell whether it's a good or bad sign. 

Probably bad. Everything about this is bad.

The call ends with a promise that an ambulance is on its way, no more than fifteen minutes out from their location. Gavin hangs up.

His hand slips from Nines' face with a parting stroke to his jaw. Nines has stopped breathing again, eyes closed, but his LED is on. Red. Solid red, but on.

Gavin feels run out of energy. He watches Nines for a moment, shoulders slumping and breath coming slower. He steps away with a pang in his chest. He doesn't know what to fucking do.

He comes to Nines' good side and leans back against the truck. Sets his head back against the driver's side window. Fifteen minutes. He can make it fifteen more minutes. He has to make it fifteen more minutes, because if Nines can't make it– if Nines–

Gavin brings his hand to his face and rubs his eyes, breathing deep as he can. He can't get too far ahead of himself, can't let his thoughts run wild. There's nothing left to do but wait. They just have to make it through fifteen more minutes, and things can go back to normal. Gavin can go back to antagonizing his partner for dumbass mistakes that put him in danger. Nines can go back to… to being fine. Repairable. They've never been unable to fix Nines, they could always fix him, even though he's a one-of-a-kind model with a death wish. This won't be any different. It can't be.

A loud creak sounds from his left, where Nines is. It's not a nice noise. He snaps his eyes to Nines.

Nines is completely weightless on the rod, head dropped forward, legs limp beneath him. Eyes still closed. His LED is dim.

Gavin is frozen for a moment, his entire body fucking locked in place.

Then he launches himself at Nines with a sudden jolt. "Nines!" he shouts, weak legs sending him forward, hands clinging to his biceps, pushing him upright. "N–Nines! Wake up, c'mon!" His voice has a desperate growl under the words. Something is fucking with his voice, making it uneven. His hands fly up to Nines' neck, his jaw. "Nines, I swear to God, don't– don't do this to me, Nines, you– you–"

It's a lump in his throat. That's what's messing up his voice.

There are tears in his eyes. His jaw aches.

He shakes Nines weakly. His head sways with it. Gavin chokes, curls his fingers hard under Nines' jaw. If he were human it would leave bruises, probably, but he's not human, and he's not supposed to– androids aren't supposed to–

Nines doesn't stir. Gavin bites out a sob. "Wake up!" he shouts, and his hands fall to fist in Nines' shirt. 

His chest is heaving. Gavin stares at his slack face.

"Don't do this to me," he repeats, suddenly breathless. He's so quiet he can barely hear himself. "Please."

Things are quiet. His forehead drops to Nines' good shoulder. His hands slip down to grip the damp fabric at Nines' stomach weakly. He draws a shaking breath and realizes he's begun to cry.

Things stay quiet until the sirens come, faint at first and louder by the second.

Gavin knows he should feel relieved. He can't remember why the fuck he should feel relieved. His weak hands tighten in Nines' shirt.

Eventually someone grabs him, pulls him out of the way. He goes without much trouble. 

Everything grays out. There's noise and commotion and Gavin is sitting somewhere. He thinks there's a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. It's hard to focus on much of anything. 

He tries to catalogue everything. It's what you do to process. They teach you that when they train you how to deal with victims who are overwhelmed. 

He's sticky with blood.

His face feels tight. Dried tears, maybe.

His hands are trembling.

He's in a scrapyard.

Nines is––

Gavin stops cataloguing everything and decides to try to measure his breathing instead. He hadn't realized his breath had picked up, but now he's lightheaded.

"Jesus Christ, Gavin."

Gavin doesn't look up from the dead car battery he's staring at.

"Gavin." Fingers snap in front of his face. Gavin's eyes sway up, following the line of their arm to find Hank's face. He blinks slowly at him. Hank's eyebrows scrunch. "What the hell is wrong with you? What happened here, where's Nines? Fucking paramedics won't tell me a god damn thing."

Gavin's eyes sink from Hank to stare at his car battery again. He doesn't know where Nines is either.

" _Gavin_." His breath comes faster, chest rising and falling quickly as he tries to fucking think, starts to fucking realize. " _Gavin_ , I swear to God, Connor is worried sick and I asked a simple fuckin' question, all I need to know is what the hell happened here."

Without his intent, his head falls forward. He catches his head in his hand, fingers covering his eyes, pressing hard against the bridge of his nose. He takes a breath, and when he exhales he's sobbing.

"Oh, fuck."

“I should’ve called an ambulance the second I saw him. I thought if I– I thought it would be faster if I––" His chest sinks down closer to his knees. "I didn't know…"

Hank's hand settles hesitantly on his shoulder. Gavin shudders. Hank doesn't usually touch him. He wonders how bad he looks to warrant a comforting touch like this. "Fuck, kid. What happened?"

"I don't know," he gasps, pinching his face in his hand. "Oh, God. Oh, God, I wasn't holding him when he– when– oh, God." 

He can feel Hank go dead still, his hand locking up on his shoulder, his breath halting for a moment. "He… Nines isn't… is he?"

Gavin's shoulders sag. He looks up at Hank.

Hank thunks down next to him. "Fuck."

Gavin gasps again, managing to calm slightly. Numbness still swells in him, and the way it gnaws against the interior of his stomach makes it hard to sob. It comes and goes in waves of sinking agony and bursting grief. "What do they…" He gasps in air. "What do they do with android bodies? I never– I never…"

Hank's face is in both of his hands, pinkies pressed together over the bridge of his nose. A shuddering sigh escapes him. "Connor told me he'd like to be salvaged for parts and then melted down. Like cremation." A pause. "Figure Nines would probably want something similar. They have similar… experiences."

Cyberlife, Hank means. Connor is afraid of what will happen to his body of it remains in tact. It makes sense that Nines might have similar fears.

Gavin's mouth twitches. "So they're just gonna melt his body down?"

"Something like that."

"I won't see him again."

"I'm sure they'll let you see him."

The twitch turns into a full twist of his mouth as he tries not to start up crying again. Gavin finally risks a glance towards the pickup truck. The rod is still sticking straight out of it, coated thoroughly in blue blood, as is the side of the driver's side door.

They must have pulled his body off it.

Gavin's stomach turns. "I think– I think I need to go home." He doesn't look at Hank, but he can feel Hank turn to look at him. "I'm sorry. I…"

Hank shakes his head. "No, go home. I'll try to get shit sorted out here. Just…" Hank's hand runs down his back comfortingly. Gavin blinks at the ground. "Go home."

He goes home. The car is very quiet, and very empty.

He gets in to his apartment with his usual shove at his door with his shoulder. He strips his jacket and throws it over the back of the couch. Empties his pockets on the kitchen counter. Keys, wallet, smokes, lighter, phone.

Phone. He squints at it, picks it up.

1 NEW VOICEMAIL

He taps the notification and goes dead still at the contact name.

VOICEMAIL: 9s. 43 min ago.

Gavin can't breathe. He picks up his phone, presses play with his thumb, and brings it up to his ear.

"Gavin." His eyes fall shut, dragging in desperately even breaths, the ones you're supposed to do when you're having an anxiety attack. In five, hold seven, exhale eight, whatever the fuck. Counting isn't something he can attempt right now. He's too focused on the voice coming through the speaker– crisp and clear and unwavering, the way Nines' voice sounds when he makes calls mentally. "You're standing at my side, but speaking aloud is too painful. Frankly I'm not sure I could make it through a word even if I wanted too. My lungs don't have enough capacity.

"Maybe it's the looming threat of death, but I'll be honest, I do wish you were still holding me." Gavin squeezes his eyes shut tighter, his torso falling forward to brace himself on the counter. "My eyes are shut, and I've disabled my optical units anyways. Trying to preserve power. Regardless, I'm going to shut down soon. I–" There's a pause. Gavin imagines Nines twirling his pen as he always does when he's thinking. "I have a shutdown timer now. I didn't want to tell you after… well. It says I have eleven minutes left, provided I enter an emergency low power mode in under a minute. I'll be unresponsive, but not dead, at least not yet."

Gavin is frozen. He's stopped breathing. His heart feels like it's barely beating. "I hope I don't scare you too much. Maybe you're answering your phone now and I just can't see you. Either way…" Gavin is sure Nines would be sighing if he could. "Either way. Hopefully it gives me enough time for the ambulance to arrive."

Another pause. Gavin jerks upright, desperately wracking his muddled memories for how long it took the ambulance to arrive after Nines had–– The sirens had come not too long after, no more than– fuck, five minutes? How long had he stood there, clutching Nines?

"I'm going to allow myself hope, I think." Gavin flings his wrist up toward his face, checking the time. "See you soon."

The line clicks and the message ends. Gavin shoves his wallet in his pocket, snatches his keys in his fist, and jams his phone into his back pocket. He leaves his cigarettes on the counter and bursts out the door of his apartment.

He drives like a fucking madman, but he doesn't have another minute to spare, he's wasted too much time already, moping and fucking crying, for God's sake, Hank will never let him live that down.

He rips into the hospital parking lot as the sun is setting. Yanks his keys out of the ignition and slams the door harder than he needs to, goes racing for the front door. He slams in, dodging visitors leaving for the night, and doesn't stop until he collides with the front desk. 

"Where is he?" he demands, eyes wild and his hair unruly and it occurs to him that he likely looks deranged. The nurse at the front desk looks exasperated with him already. "The prototype, the RK900 who was admitted tonight. He was admitted tonight, he had to be admitted tonight, tell me where he is."

"I'm afraid we're not permitted to give out that kind of information, sir, you'll have to–"

Gavin snaps his badge off his belt and slams it on the counter. "Tell me where he is, goddamnit! I'm his fucking partner!"

Unimpressed, the nurse flicks her eyes over his badge and back up to his face. "If you sit down, I can check our patient logs for the day."

"I can't sit–"

"Sir." She's standing now. "I understand you're concerned. I'm doing what I can. Sit down."

Gavin's fingers twitch, clenching and unclenching around his badge. After a moment of staring her down, he snarls and jams his badge back to his belt, whirling around to toss himself down in a waiting room chair.

His leg bounces uncontrollably. _Please, please, please, please_ , he thinks, and he's not even sure what he's begging for. Who he's begging to. He brings his thumb to his mouth and bites down hard on his thumbnail. Nines always chastises him when he does that. He chews harder and keeps his eyes pinned to his little patch of carpet. 

"Sir." His eyes snap up to the nurse again, his mouth pulling from his thumb as they do. She looks him over once and says, "The RK900 is still in repairs."

He's alive. Gavin stares at her, unseeing for a moment while relief rushes through his gut, builds pressure in his chest. "W–" His voice cracks. He clears his throat and tries again. "When can I see him?"

She sighs. "The technicians operating haven't been working for all that long. It'll probably be some time. Visiting hours end in fifteen minutes or so, so it's best that you go home for the night and return tomorrow morning. He'll be out of surgery– ah, repairs, then, and in a room of his own."

Gavin is still staring at her. His leg bounces rapidly. She meets his gaze, though as more time passes she grows more confused. Or concerned. Gavin opens his mouth, jaw trembling, lets out a breath, and mumbles, "He died in my arms."

The nurse sighs softly. Gavin notices her nametag. Alexis. She sits down in the chair across from him. "I'm sure it was a very… difficult situation. But visiting hours are ending soon, and there's no telling how long he'll be in surgery. You should go home, rest, and come back in the morning. He'll be here all the same."

Gavin sinks his face into his hands for the umpteenth time that day. "Does your waiting room close?"

Alexis sighs. "No."

He nods. Rubs his thumb and his forefinger into his eyes, leans back in his chair, and says nothing else. Eventually he hears her stand and leave, and his breath leaves him in a rush.

He's slept in worse places.

Somehow, mercifully, he doesn't dream.

When he wakes, it's with a jolt. His mind races, quickly trying to sort out where the fuck he is and why he feels so heavy– his back aches, his neck is sore, and he's not in his apartment. It smells sterile, like antiseptic and metal and––

Oh. Right.

He straightens, looking around for a nurse, but he doesn't get very far.

Connor is in the seat next to him, pouring a sugar packet into a paper cup of coffee. Gavin's mouth waters a the smell. He blinks, hard, trying to make sure he's really awake. "What–" he cuts himself off, glances at his watch. Six-thirty in the morning. "When do visiting hours…?"

Connor tilts a creamer into the coffee, too, stirs again. "Eight." He taps the stir stick on the rim, then passes the cup to Gavin. Gavin feels some tension leave his shoulders, mutters an exhausted thank you as he brings it to his lips. Drinks deeply. "I was informed several hours ago that he's safely out of repairs and resting in his room."

Gavin forgot to even consider that he might not survive his repairs. His neck dips, chin falling towards his chest as he hears it all the same. "Any chance they'd let his partner in to see him early?"

Connor is smiling tiredly when Gavin glances over at him. "Doubt it. I'm his emergency contact, closest thing to family on Nines' record. They told me to sit down next to his partner." Gavin eases back into his chair, holding his coffee loosely. "Told me he pitched a fit last night, then passed out in the waiting room."

"Sounds like a nice guy."

Connor snorts.

They wait quietly after that. Gavin drinks his coffee faster than he should.

It creeps closer to eight. 

"Hank says you were pretty upset when he found you." Gavin has long finished his coffee and is resting his head in his hand. He sighs, shoulders winding closer again. "Sounds like it was a pretty rough scene."

Gavin says nothing.

"You really care about him."

Gavin still doesn't look him, digging his the pads of his fingers into his cheekbones. "What do you want, Connor."

Connor sighs and leans back in his chair. "Nothing. I just… you two have a rocky relationship. I knew you didn't really hate each other, of course, but… I don't know. Something seems different than what I've seen before."

"Yeah, I watched him spit blood up as he tried to say five words," Gavin snaps, loudly. It makes heads turn towards him in the silent, nearly-empty waiting room. "I heard him fucking s–" He chokes off the rest of his sentence and fists his hands in the material of his pants at his thighs. He tries to speak lower, and it comes out strained. "He– I heard him _scream_ when I tried to– I've never heard him scream before." They're both quiet again. "Yeah. Something's different now, you're right." Pause. "I heard him scream," he says again.

They are silent until visiting hours open. When the clock hits eight, Gavin stands without a word and shoulders his way through the swinging doors to the patient rooms. As he's stalking down the hallway, he realizes he has no idea which room is Nines', and stutters in his step.

"He's in A3. It's in the Android Ward," Connor says next to him. "At the end of the hall."

Gavin picks up his pace, close to a jog, then closer to a sprint, as he races toward Nines' room. 

A1. Gavin nearly trips over his feet as he slows himself.

A2. He propels himself the last few steps

A3. He throws the door open.

Nines is sitting up in his bed, propped up against a few pillows. His eyes are fixed somewhere across the room, blankly– doing something in his head, then. He looks toward the door as Gavin braces himself in the doorway, one hand clinging to the frame, the other clutching the door handle. A relieved smile finds Nines' lips. He opens his mouth, and Gavin beats him to it.

"You miserable plastic bastard," Gavin spits at him, breathless, chest aching as he stares at him. There's a pressure building high in his throat. Nines’ mouth has shut. "You unbearable son of a bitch." He lurches forward from the doorway, stiff legs jerking him forwards, closer to Nines, closer. There's no blood on his face anymore, his hair is soft and clean, and there is no metal sticking out of him. "You sad sack of shit, you–"

One of his knees rises, presses to the mattress next to Nines' thigh. 

His hand presses to Nines' shoulder, fingers curling, holding tight. His other hand fumbles to Nines' jaw.

He kisses him.

Gavin kisses him.

Gavin didn't know he was going to do that.

He kisses him until he gasps against Nines' lips and realizes he's fucking crying again, drawing in big, sobbing breaths, hands curling so tight into Nines it would be painful if he were human, if he were human, and there's that fucking thought again–

His head falls to Nines' shoulder. He's hyperventilating. "How c– how could you d-do that to me you f- _fucking_ android, I thought you were dead. You d-died in my– _fucking bastard_ , leaving me a fucking voicemail, leaving me to race across the city to– to––" He gasps.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Gavin, I–"

"Don't fucking apologize!" Gavin sobs, cradling Nines' head, drawing him toward his own shoulder. "Oh, my God. You're alive. You're alive."

Nines' hands come hesitantly up to stroke his back, his right hand skating up his spine, settling heavily at the base of his neck, the other following shortly after to cup the side of his ribcage. Gavin shudders against him and drags his hand down from Nines' shoulder to clench in his stupid hospital gown over where the hole in his chest was. He grips it, hard, until he can feel his nails press into his palm even through the fabric.

He jerks back suddenly, pushing himself up right, pulling harshly at the collar of Nines' gown. "Let me see it, I want– I need to see it."

"G-Gavin," Nines stutters, snatching Gavin's hand up in his, trying to stop him from tearing his gown open. "Gavin, please."

Gavin's eyes flicker up to Nines. He's not tugging anymore, but his hand stays where it is. Nines' eyes are darting to look somewhere behind Gavin every few seconds, and Gavin figures that Connor is still somewhere behind him, but he can't bring himself to care all that much. His wet eyes pinch with desperation. "Please," he begs right back, his other hand coming to Nines' collar as well. "Please, I have to see it. Just to– to make sure."

Nines stares at him, meets his eye. Gavin's chest clenches at the intensity. After a few long moments, he looks over Gavin's shoulder again. "Ah, Connor, could… could you–"

"I'll go find Hank," Connor says quickly, presumably fleeing the room just as fast. "I'm sure he'd like to see you soon. Just, uh. Text me."

The door clicks shut. Gavin readjusts, throws his knee over Nines' and gets his other one on the bed as well until he's straddling him. Fumbles for the buttons along the side of his gown.

Once he's worked it open, he presses his palm flat to Nines' chest, smooth again, and he can't even tell Nines once had a metal rod stabbed right through him, can't tell he almost died, had to be patched up. He sprawls his fingers over the spot, fingers digging into the crease of his shoulder, thumb at his collarbone. He whines, long and low, and bites his lip to stop the familiar influx of emotions.

Nines is somewhat stiff under him. One of his hands is clutching Gavin's left thigh. The memory isn't a very good one for Nines, either, he knows, and Gavin doesn't want to make him relive it, doesn't want to force him to think about it, but good _God_ , Gavin needs to feel him in one piece. Whole again. Safe. Repairable, just like always.

"Damn you, you reckless bastard," Gavin says finally, after a prolonged, weighted silence. He manages to tear his eyes away from Nines' shoulder. He wants to see him while they have this conversation. "Why the fuck did you chase that thing? We knew– we _knew_ what it was capable of, and you– you knew better than that. You put yourself at risk on purpose."

Gavin can see Nines mulling over his words, designing the best outcome for this conversation. "I… was afraid you would be injured, so I went alone. I thought it would be–"

He chose the wrong words. "Cut the bullshit. Tell me the truth."

Nines clenches his jaw. He refuses to speak for nearly a minute.

"I hate that he's stronger than me," Nines finally says, his mouth twisting with it. "I'm supposed to be stronger– strongest, fastest. I couldn't stand the idea that I couldn't beat him alone, so I thought that if I caught him off guard, if I focused…" Nines shakes his head. "Moronic. I know. It just… got in my head."

Gavin sighs, his breath coming out in a long rush. "Yeah, and it almost got you killed, too."

"I know." Nines fidgets. "I just… was afraid. A-Amanda was always telling me, in the very short time I knew her, that I _had_ to be better than any other android. That my predecessor would be destroyed for being weak, and I was to replace him shortly, and… it… it still… affects me."

Gavin's heart clenches. He runs his hands down Nines' chest, clinging. "Of course it does," Gavin says softly. His throat is a little choked up. "You're… you're still a fucking idiot, but… I understand, Nine. I'm sorry."

Nines smiles softly. Squeezes Gavin's hip, where his hand has slid slowly up to. Gavin feels it absently. Nines' smile twists a little playfully, eyes alight. "Are we gonna… talk… about the fact that you kissed me? Like just a minute ago?"

Gavin huffs and smacks his palm down to his chest with a little slap. Heat starts to rise to his face, and he scrunches up his nose against it, trying to fight the blush. "Are we gonna talk about the fact that you kissed me back? Like just a minute ago?" he mocks, feeling a little defensive. He doesn't actually know if Nines kissed back. He'd blacked out a little.

"We should," Nines murmurs, drawing Gavin in closer, until their foreheads rest together. "So long as you stay close."

Gavin stares at Nines, warmth filling his chest. He tilts back to get a proper look at him. Nines' eyes are bright, aware, and glued entirely to him. Gavin lets out a slow breath. "I'm gonna stay close," he murmurs, and they tip forward at the same time for another kiss. "You'd be lucky to get a moment away from me, now."

"Doesn't sound so lucky to me."

"Just kiss me."

Nines does.

**Author's Note:**

> nines is impaled on a metal rod and pinned in place. it punctures one of his lungs and he gets blood in his lung. he has difficulty breathing and speaking. blood is described more than once as it comes out of his mouth and nose.
> 
> i'm the king of abrupt endings
> 
> hope you enjoyed!! let me know what you thought!! kudos & comments make my heart sing!!
> 
> find me on tumblr @stacispratt!!


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